On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance)

by Jamison, Jade C.

  We didn’t want to start out with the hard push—we knew gentle, soft, and quiet would make Vicki more receptive, especially after we’d shared some warm feelings. So we talked about our first kisses (imagine my surprise when a forgotten memory placed me at a beach when I was ten and hanging out with a boy my age who’d asked if I wanted to “make out”), followed by a high-pitched giggling session where we talked about orgasms. Again, I was shocked, because I and Barbie (and even reluctant Liz a few minutes later) had some great stories. Both Vicki and Kelly said they hadn’t yet had the pleasure.

  But it finally came down to business. Kelly and Liz both gave me a look, and that was when I discovered that they wanted me to do all the talking—or at least get the ball rolling. I supposed that was my own damn fault for not working out the details early on.

  I took a deep breath and a sip of beer and then said, “Vicki…we’re worried about you.”

  She laughed—a little too loudly and with a harsh edge. “I don’t know why.”

  But she did. I knew she did. I think she was trying to avoid the reality, though, and it was easier to dismiss us than to admit she had a problem. I reminded myself to go easy. I looked her in the eyes but hoped compassion bled through mine. “You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, Vicki, and I care so much about you.” I looked at my bandmates. “We all do. We’re sisters…and so that’s why we wanted to tell you we think you have a problem.”

  She furrowed her brows. “First off, don’t you dare say shit about Andrew.”

  I wasn’t going to, although I felt like he was a huge part of why she was where she was now…nor was I going to say anything about any of the scuzzy guys she’d fucked before him. “Your relationship choices are your own, and I don’t think any of us in this room can point any fingers. No, Vicki—we’re worried about…the drugs you take. We’re afraid you’re addicted and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

  The look that crossed her face was dark and angry, more than I’d ever seen from her. “None of you can point any fingers about that, either. You’ve all tried something at least once. I just happened to find something…something that takes the pain away.”

  Kelly asked, “Pain?”

  “Yeah. All my life, I’ve gotten these horrible headaches. But I’m not just talking about physical pain. There’s just the fucking pain of life.”

  Barbie said, “But things are just looking up for us. Things are getting so good. Isn’t your life better now because of the Vagabonds?”

  Vicki screwed her mouth up, and it was then that I noticed how tired she looked. “In some ways—but not in others.”

  “Like how?”

  Vicki ground her jaw. “I don’t have to answer to you or explain it to you, Barbie. Fuck off.” She stood up.

  “Hey, hey,” Liz said. She hadn’t said shit this whole time, so it was nice to hear her join in. “Vicki, we didn’t mean to put you under a microscope or make you feel bad about yourself. We care about you and just wanted you to know—and we want to help you if you want.”

  She still looked pissed. “I don’t want or need your help.” She started to walk toward the door.

  Liz touched her arm. “Don’t go, babe.” Vicki turned around and then I saw she was ready to cry. I stood up and the three of us hugged—followed by Kelly and then Barbie. We all started crying and sat on one of the beds.

  After a while, Vicki said, “Sorry, girls, but this isn’t going to work. You’ll never understand me…and I am in serious need of a fix.”

  “Stop,” Barbie said. “What the hell’s so great about the shit you take?”

  “You really wanna know? Maybe you should try it.”

  Barbie cocked her head as if to tell our friend, Really?

  Vicki spoke anyway. “It’s like you get this shock to your system and you get this rush of happiness. I’m talking like happier than you’ve ever known. You guys were talking about orgasms, right? Well, I bet you anything your first hit of H tops even your best orgasm. And then, as it settles in, all of your pain just kind of washes away.” She blinked. “I’ve never felt so good in my life.”

  “Well, hell, if it’s that great, we should all try it—don’t you girls think?”

  I didn’t know if Barbie was trying reverse psychology or if she was being serious, but even though heroin was one of the big baddies, I’d try it once—especially under the right circumstances. It was probably also the beer and the camaraderie talking when I answered. “Okay, yeah. Vicki,” I said, looking my friend in the eye, “if we try it, will you try quitting for a while?”

  She seemed to consider it and then said, “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

  Kelly stood. “I love you guys, but sorry. I’m out.” She looked at Barbie and Liz. “Can I borrow your key and sleep in your room till you’re done? Sorry, but I have my limits.”

  Liz stood up and I thought she was going to leave with Kelly. If so…I might reconsider this stupid path we were on. But part of me was also thinking about the gaping hole CJ had left in my body this afternoon. I felt hollow and alone and…yeah, I ached, and it would be nice for that to fade for a while.

  Part of my stupidity was that we’d been experimenting on the road anyway—what was one more drug?

  But Liz gave Kelly her key and said, “Okay. This is probably the dumbest thing I will ever do in my life, but it seems like all the greats have struggled with smack, right? Seriously—look at them. Nikki Sixx, Kurt Cobain, Layne Staley, Dee Dee Ramone, Sid Vicious, Kristen Pfaff. Maybe I need to see what all the hype is about.”

  Liz’s statement at first gave me pause, because it seemed so out of character, but the more I thought about it, I realized it wasn’t. The only thing Liz wanted more than the love and acceptance of her parents was to be looked upon as legit. She never said it out loud but, to me, at least, it was obvious that she didn’t think people would take her seriously. It was almost as if she thought we judged her because of her background instead of her musical abilities. It came clear to me in that moment that almost everything she had done up to this point had been methodical and planned. And it made me wonder what she’d been like when she had still been known as Edna Elizabeth. What kind of clothes had she worn as a privileged rich girl? I was sure her wardrobe and makeup had been quite different. I’d even witnessed her over the past several months change the way she spoke, so I knew she was trying, but I often wondered what about her life had made her seek satisfaction and escape in music?

  I didn’t have much more time to speculate, because Barbie and Liz were sitting again, waiting for Vicki to move forward. I had a short moment of clarity when I said, “Yeah, and how many of those guys died because they OD’ed?”

  Liz frowned. “That’s because they didn’t stop.”

  Vicki shook her head. “That’s probably because they were injecting or doing a speedball.”

  Well, now my naïveté was most certainly showing. “What the hell’s a speedball?”

  “Heroin and cocaine together.” I started feeling nervous, like it was a stupid thing to do this, but before I could voice my new concerns, Vicki said, “I’m telling you…a little bit isn’t gonna kill you.”

  Liz shrugged. “I’m gonna try it.”

  My mind flashed on CJ for some stupid reason—it was just the right moment. “Okay, me too.”

  Barbie laughed. “Of course, I’m gonna do it.”

  Liz asked, “So we won’t be doing it intravenously, right?” Vicki furrowed her brow. “No injection?”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, no. We’ll smoke it.” I almost told her we wouldn’t smoke in here; after all, we’d been going outside to smoke at most hotels, but we were actually in a smoking room for once and even if not, smoking an illegal drug outside would be stupid. Stupider than some of the things I usually did.

  Vicki got up and unzipped her bag, pulling out a box of foil, a short metal straw, a lighter, and a piece of paper folded several times. I could tell she’d done this multiple times before, because she ha
ndled her equipment just like someone who’d done it every day for years. She folded the foil into a V shape and then opened the paper. Inside was a powdery brown substance—what I knew must be the drug—and then she asked who wanted to go first. Barbie, of course, held up her hand but said she didn’t know what to do. Again, Vicki stuck the straw in her mouth, then held the foil in one hand and the lighter in another. In no time, a wisp of smoke was rising from the foil and she sucked it through the straw. She handed the stuff to Barbie and lay down on the carpet, closing her eyes.

  What Vicki had done as an expert the rest of us fumbled through. I wound up holding the lighter under the foil for Barbie before letting Liz do it. And then it was my turn. At first, I thought I was immune to its effects or maybe all the drug had been burned up by the time I breathed in the smoke. But then it hit me just a minute later—and I completely understood exactly what Vicki had been talking about. Peace, tranquility, and—just like Vicki had said—a supreme lack of pain.

  Holy shit.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  WE WOUND UP getting on the beds—two girls per bed—and watching something funny on TV. Or at least it seemed funny at the time. I felt so goddamned floaty and happy. Really happy. Unbelievably joyous and relaxed—beyond anything I had ever known.

  It lasted until I felt asleep. I remember thinking CJ who? and giggling as I drifted off. In fact, I’d felt sleepy most of the evening, like I was on the verge of passing out, that peaceful sensation of almost drifting off and knowing that you won’t be awake much longer.

  When I awoke the next morning, Vicki was already gone. I got up and realized I didn’t feel hung over or anything, but Barbie was stirring when I came back after using the restroom. “Man, that’s some fucked up shit,” she said.

  “Not bad.” But I already knew one thing. That stuff? Jesus Christ. I could see myself get addicted to it quickly. I’d never felt euphoria like that before, and I understood immediately why people could get hooked. That was an amazing feeling, and I could see why users would much rather go through life like that instead of the normal way we existed from day to day. Damn.

  I could never—never—touch the shit again. No fucking way. It would be a death sentence.

  And then I wondered why something that made me feel so good was so bad, but that was the siren call of the drug already singing to me. It’s not so bad. It can’t be bad. But I knew—I’d seen too many rock heroes die from it, nearly die, or give themselves over completely. It was an all-consuming demon, and I knew I couldn’t listen to my brain’s cry for more.

  Barbie, however, had had a different experience. “God, I felt like shit. And I kept throwing up. My entire insides were clenched all fucking night. I don’t see what the big goddamned deal is.” Oh, I knew—but I wasn’t going to say a word.

  “Feel better now?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Liz rolled over and sat up. “That was some intense shit.”

  “No shit. It’s already eleven. I think I need some fuckin’ coffee.” Barbie sat on the floor and pulled on her boots.

  “Great idea. You in, Kyle?”

  “Yeah, sure.” But I had something else I’d have to do right after.

  * * *

  Before we got back to the hotel from the Starbucks three blocks away, I texted Peter and asked him if he had a few minutes. If it’s quick.

  He told me to meet him in his room and, when I knocked on the door, he said, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Okay, so he was worse than usual. The moniker of slick that I often pinned on Andrew was definitely fitting of Peter, and definitely on that day more than usual. He acted like he was once again trying to sell me something, and I didn’t appreciate it.

  I tried to ignore it, because I needed to talk to him honestly and directly. “I know you’ve heard this before, Peter, but it needs to be said again. Vicki is addicted to heroin. She’s not just dabbling—she’s hooked. We need to get her help.”

  Peter waved me over to sit in a chair by the tiny round table next to the sliding glass door before sitting down himself. “Do we get her help now…or after the tour ends?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? We have to get her help now—before she kills herself.”

  “So do we stop the tour dead in its tracks? Perhaps you forget that we have obligations, Ms. Summers. We’ve made promises to venues, to fans, to the acts the Vagabonds are supporting. How do you think your new fans would react if, on your very first tour, you backed out of almost half the dates you promised to play?” I started to counter, but he continued. “I suppose we could find someone else who could drum, but how long before they learned your set, and would they fit with you ladies? And how would the fans feel about one of you leaving just when you’d begun?”

  I took a deep breath as his truths—or his versions of the truth—washed over me. “And, last but not least, how do you think Ms. Graham would feel if you all kicked her out of the band, whether permanently or temporarily, for her good or not, and kept going? Do you think she would feel betrayed or unloved? Do you think that would help or hurt her condition?” He paused for that dramatic effect he was so well known for. “I’m sure you’ve heard that addicts can’t be helped until they admit there’s a problem, and the last time I talked to Ms. Graham about it, she didn’t think she had any issues. I voiced concerns that both I and you ladies had, and she told me not to worry. She insists that she can quit any time she likes.”

  “You know that’s bullshit, Peter.”

  He pursed his lips in that creepy way he often did when he was trying to make it look like he was considering what you’d said, but I suspected it was just an act. I was pretty sure he already knew what he wanted to say and was simply trying to figure out how to say it. “Yes, but she has to realize she needs help.”

  I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. I knew Vicki was stubborn about the whole matter. “So what do we do? What if she dies before she gets the help she needs?”

  Peter blinked. “I’m not saying we don’t keep an eye on her. And we need to keep encouraging her to go easy on the junk.” He paused and sat up straight. “Unless, of course, you want me to throw her in rehab and cancel all our dates.” Fucker. He was hitting me in my sorest, most tender spot. “We can talk to the entire band if you like…put it to a vote. Would you prefer that?”

  Peter, the dream seller, had me pinned against the wall—and he knew it. He was the car salesman continuing to throw in as many bells and whistles as he could, knowing I couldn’t walk off the lot. He damn well knew he had me by the balls.

  I shook my head and left, feeling forlorn and guilty as hell. Apparently, my fame meant more to me than my friend’s health and yet I also knew Peter was right. We could force her into rehab and she’d leave as soon as she could and start taking drugs again as soon as she could score them. Nothing would work, but I’d wanted to give the adult in charge the reins, hoping he could magically change what was happening. Instead, it felt like he was hiding something more sinister but I had no idea what that could be.

  I left his room, deciding to talk to Vicki one last time, see if I could hold her to her promise to quit because we’d tried the drug. It was all I had left.

  * * *

  We were an hour away from going onstage but we’d been at the venue a while. I knew Vicki was high again, because she was acting mellow. I managed to get her alone, though, and I asked her if we could chat for a few minutes.

  “Sure. I need to head outside for a smoke anyway.”

  It wasn’t long before we were outdoors. I wasn’t used to southern winters. A cold rain was falling; in Colorado, it would be snowing. Of course, I did remember a few winters on the road with my parents where we were in California and Arizona, but this felt different. I was glad I had a jacket on.

  Vicki lit up a cigarette. “So what’s up?”

  God. Where to start? I figured it would simply be best to spit it out. “Well…you said if we tried your stuff that you�
��d try quitting.”

  She took a long, hard drag on her cigarette, and when she looked at me, I thought I saw something, maybe almost a little fear—in her eyes. “Nope. Kelly backed out, so no dice.”

  “Oh, come on, Vicki. Why should we make her do something she was clearly not comfortable with?” And, if I would have been honest with my friend, I would have told her I never should have done it either because I was now drawn to it, but that would have been a weakness she might exploit later. I didn’t dare divulge that information to her.

  “I know—but that was the deal.” She took another puff on her cigarette and I gritted my teeth as I tried to find the right words. But then she said, “I promise to cut back, though. I think that’s fair.”

  Well, it was better than nothing, and just hearing her promise to ratchet down her usage made me feel better. So I nodded. “Okay.” I hugged her and her body got stiff. That was strange, but I wasn’t going to question it right now. She’d been acting odd for a while and this was probably just part of that. I also noticed how thin she felt compared to the way she’d been at the beginning of our tour. Damn Andrew. Asshole. “I care about you, sister. I just want you to be okay.”

  “I am,” she said. Famous last words.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  A LOT OF the remainder of that tour was kind of a blur—and for many reasons. The first was thanks to drugs. After crossing a line and trying one of the big baddies on my top three list, it felt like I could try a lot of different drugs—and so I did. I kept my promise to myself to never try heroin again, and I also kept meth and crack on my taboo list; other than that, everything else was fair game. There were plenty that I didn’t have the chance to try, but those I was offered, I didn’t say no to…and alcohol and pot continued to be my first choice. Some substances I tried that spring included things like Ecstasy, shrooms, acid, Quaaludes, ketamine, and downers.